Page 120 of Puppy Love

I think what scares me so much about this isn’t the end of the contract. It isn’t knowing I’ll never feel Cam’s body against mine again. That I could forget what her lips taste like.

What scares me, more than anything, is that I will never get to know who she becomes. She’s changed so much from when I met her. She’s still Cam, of course, and I hope that stays the same. But she’s growing, and I’m scared I’m going to miss out on it.

Everything happens for a reason. I’ve always said that, and I’ve always believed it too. I just wish there had been another way for the universe to make me feel something, because this fucking sucks.*

Idon’t realize I’ve missed my mother’s voice until I hear it again. 32

“You never visit us anymore,” she says.

I changed my mind.

Her voice is weak, and raspy like fragile gravel that would crumble under your feet with just one step. I inhale deeply, letting each organ in my body lock so that everything stays where it should be. My heart still drops to my feet when my father speaks up.

“What, you don’t love us anymore?”

“No guys, it’s not that. I’ve just been really busy and—”

My mother interrupts. “I was in the hospital.”

“I know Mom.”

“I could’ve died.”

I want to scream. I want to release every word, and every emotion I have ever held back, and throw them all out at this small, frail woman who’s supposed to be my mother until my throat is raw and my lungs collapse. I want to ask her whose fault it is and bring up all the times I’ve sat in the hospital waiting for her self-inflicted demise. I want to remind her of every single graduation, birthday, and promotion she’s missed because she was in some random person’s basement shooting so many chemicals into her body she thought it was three years earlier than it actually was. But I don’t. I just close my eyes and muster up the only words I can put in its place.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Yeah, well…”

And that’s all she says. Ruthie brings two cups of warm tea from the kitchen, and places it on the table in front of our parents.

“Aunt Vi! Aunt Vi!” a little high-pitched voice squeals, and I turn my head to see Tyler running at me, full speed ahead.

“Hey bug!” I say, flashing her a smile. My arms open wide, scooping her into a hug.

“Are you excited to open presents?”

Tyler nods, pointing to the gifts stacked high under the tree.

“Mom said you probably weren’t coming, but Dad made her wait.”

I shoot Ruthie a look, and she shrugs sheepishly.

“What? It was a fair assumption.”

I turn to Jeramiah and give him a nod.

“Thanks for waiting,” I say. Jeremiah nods back silently, a babbling Willow attached to his hip.

“What time does the caretaker usually come?” I ask, in an attempt to make casual conversation. If I ask about their lives, my parents won’t pretend to care about mine.

“Ugh, that bitch.”

“Mom!” Ruthie yells. Then she lowers her voice to a whisper, pointing at Tyler. Jeremiah takes Willow and Tyler into the next room.

“What? I’ll tell you what, she can’t cook for shit, and she doesn’t know her head from her ass even if you labeled them. I want to fire her.”

“You can’t fire her, Mom,” Ruthie says, placing her hand on her shoulder. I stay silent. “That’s part of the conditions. You guys can only stay here if you and dad are sticking with the program. NA three times a week, a caretaker visit a couple of hours each day, and—”

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